


Before the Long Cliffs

by Kerioth



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerioth/pseuds/Kerioth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mogget has tried to kill Sabriel three times, twice before Kerrigor was bound, and once after...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Long Cliffs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [torigates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/gifts).



“Be careful with Mogget … He's nearly killed my mother in his unbound form. Three times, in fact, during the time she's been the Abhorsen.” _-_ Sameth, _Lirael_

  

Steps. Touchstone was sick of them already, though he knew there would be many more to climb even before the next rest point. Sabriel was ahead of him, hidden by one of the switchbacks on the path up to the Long Cliffs and the tunnel to Abhorsen's House. From time to time as they climbed, she waited for Touchstone to catch up with her before moving on – his recently broken leg was proving to be a greater hindrance than Sabriel's more serious wounds. He had been trying to distract himself for the last three bends of the path, to take his mind off of the pain that stabbed through his leg with each step, but he was only partly successful.

 

Touchstone's thoughts were mostly occupied with all of the things that needed to be done to restore the Kingdom – his kingdom, though he was avoiding that thought, as if to delay the responsibilities it suggested. He had discussed much of what needed to be done with Sabriel, during their brief convalescence in Ancelstierre after Kerrigor was bound. They had talked in circles for most of it, piling up ideas and suggestions and counterarguments until they overwhelmed themselves and sank back into fitful sleep.

 

They were on their way now to Abhorsen's House so Sabriel could find or make bells to replace the ones broken in her battle against Kerrigor. They also hoped to find a secure place to keep Kerrigor, currently bound in the shape of a black cat and sleeping in Sabriel's pack. Many of Kerrigor's servants had been driven back into Death when he was defeated, but others remained to be dealt with, and neither Sabriel nor Touchstone wanted to risk Kerrigor's release at the hands of one of these former lieutenants.

 

Touchstone's thoughts were broken by the sudden sound of a bell, echoing from the cliff face above. Though he was unfamiliar with the bells' varied tones, he knew instinctively that Sabriel had not rung this one. He pushed himself to climb faster, and faster still as he caught the hot metallic scent of Free Magic, faint on the wind. He unsheathed one of his swords as he rounded the next switchback, crooking the fingers of his other hand ready to draw whatever Charter marks he might need for defense or attack. After one more switchback, Touchstone emerged onto a ledge between the top of the steps and the base of the cliffs, and saw Sabriel kneeling before a man dressed in black and brown furs, with a necromancer's bandolier of bells across his chest.

 

Touchstone could not hear the necromancer's words, but he could guess their meaning – one of the man's thin hands was stretched out toward Sabriel's pack; the other held the still-ringing Saraneth, binding Sabriel to his will. The necromancer's head jerked up and turned as he caught sight of Touchstone hurtling toward him across the ledge. Almost automatically, Touchstone pulled Charter marks into his mind, flinging them out at the necromancer as shining silver blades. The necromancer dodged neatly, and two of the blades went wide, but the third struck him in the arm that was wielding Saraneth, and the bell's tone soured, enough for Sabriel to stir and start to rise from her knees, drawing her own sword.

 

In response, the necromancer transferred the bell to his other hand, and when Saraneth rang again, its sound enveloped Touchstone as well as Sabriel, binding them both in place. Saraneth's voice echoed in Touchstone's head, shutting out everything but the red fog of berserker rage and the endless flow of the Charter, both tantalizingly out of reach. The necromancer took Sabriel and Touchstone's packs and set them before him on the ledge. He threw open the flaps one-handed to reveal two sleeping cats – one black, one white. The necromancer's brow creased as he contemplated the unexpected choice before him. He muttered to himself, low enough not to disrupt Saraneth's tone, but even with the sound of the bell filling his mind, Touchstone could read the thought on the necromancer's bony face: “Which one?”

 

The necromancer looked up, searching Sabriel's and Touchstone's faces for a clue, but they were held immobile by Saraneth, and he clearly did not dare to release them even a little, for they were fighting the binding with all their strength. At last, the necromancer reached out and loosed the white cat's collar. Touchstone thought he heard Sabriel say the word “No,” from between her clenched teeth, but the sound was lost as Mogget seemed to explode out of the pack, white fur brightening to painfully brilliant blue-white light, reeking of Free Magic.

 

It seemed to Touchstone that the creature was even more powerful than before, perhaps due to the nature of Ranna's binding. As its shining flesh met the necromancer's furs, they burst into a flame that spread quickly over his entire body. His dying scream was drowned out by a discordant jangle as his bells melted in the creature's white hot glow, and that sound was stifled in turn by the creature's harsh laugh.

 

Again, Touchstone watched helplessly as a deadly enemy slid toward Sabriel, and he saw both panic and resolve in her eyes. He promised himself that he would protect her better in the future – a foolish promise, he knew, for she was the Abhorsen, and her duty was to face the Dead. But he already had a fool's name, and so why not make a fool's promises as well, at least in his own mind? Sabriel flung a silver ring like a crown over the creature's head, and waited for its magic to constrict the terrible shape into a dark blot before ringing Ranna to complete the binding. The bell's sweet tone sounded like a sigh of relief, and Touchstone heard his own sigh as an echo. Mogget, once more a white cat, spat up a silver ring, and Sabriel bent to pick it up and place it back on her finger.

 

Touchstone got up and met her by their packs, trying to find words to express the tangle of emotions he felt. “Do you have to let that creature get so close to you before you use the ring?” he asked, which wasn't any of the things he'd meant to say.

 

“I don't know,” replied Sabriel, gazing down at the sleeping cats, “but I hope I never have to do that again.”


End file.
